


Broken Rules

by Magestii



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, mercymaker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 03:45:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7205975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magestii/pseuds/Magestii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rules are everything. In fact, the vast majority of rules are just common sense, but sometimes common sense is very, very wrong. When Mercy crosses paths with Amélie, a woman who is soon to become her worst nightmare, her world is turned upside down and all of the fundamental rules that she once trusted and relied upon were broken, one by one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Rules

Rule 1: Knowledge is Power

Being in Overwatch offered countless benefits that Angela simply could not have refused. One of the most important benefits, excluding the ability to conduct as many experiments as her heart desired, was the unadulterated knowledge that came with the position. Angela got to know everything, with none of the filters or misinformation offered by the press. That day, however, she heavily regretted her privilege.   
“Amélie Lacroix has been abducted by Talon.” How could someone just say that? Being a civilian, she would only have heard that the woman had been reported missing, but this new knowledge had been sickening to her. Angela’s mind, usually sharp and analytical, screamed that it had to be a mistake. She had come up with so many alternatives, so many other reasons for the woman to have gone missing, but it was all for naught, because Overwatch knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Amélie had been abducted, and that the perpetrator was Talon. The countless nights spent awake -no- kept awake by the nightmares of what they could be doing to her Amélie had practically driven her insane. Seeing Gérard in the office, pale and disheveled, she had wanted to reach out to him, but it would have taken even more from her increasingly urgent pile of work. Even then, she could not tell him why she was so upset, why she empathized so well with him. The torture of knowing while having so little knowledge was horrible. One would think that it was unbearable.  
It was nothing in comparison to the weeks that followed Amélie’s return. Angela had been the first one to see that she received nothing but the absolute best medical attention. The woman, however, was seemingly fine. They shared a few awkward words across the days that Angela reviewed her, but besides that, she seemed fine. Angela knew that it was wrong. She had known that there was something wrong with Amélie, but without any proof, there was no reason for her to make the woman stay any longer. She knew that something was wrong with her when she let the woman go. That knowledge was what made the murder of Amélie’s husband, an act that was clearly committed by Amélie herself, infinitely worse. One would think that such knowledge was unbearable.  
It was nothing in comparison to being Widowmaker’s target. 

-

From the end of the battle, something had felt wrong. “Mercy” changed out of her valkyerie suit and into her street clothes, becoming Angela. Brushing a strand of platinum blond hair out of her face, she exhaled a breath of relief, hanging her suit up with a series of gentle clicks. Before she could completely hang up her suit, she paused, hand resting almost protectively over the breastplate. She simply could not shake the feeling of being watched. It was like two needles were hovering just millimeters away from the nape of her neck, signifying the unwavering gaze of a stranger. The room was lit, but there was no one else around, and she grew increasingly opposed to the idea of turning around and seeing what was behind her. She felt breath on the back of her neck and froze completely, feeling the hair there stand up as warning. Trembling, she willed herself to count down from three and spin around.   
Silence, and an empty room. Angela placed a hand over her heart, feeling it pound against her chest and willing it to slow down to its usual rate. She took a few deep breaths and left the room, switching off the lights.  
“You’re supposed to be one of the smartest people in the world, Angela.” she muttered to herself, under her breath. Everything was still so eerily silent, she could hear her heels clack against the hard surface of the tiled floor and could almost pretend to hear another pair of footsteps, walking in sync. She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. She had to stop freaking herself out. Finally arriving at the end of the set of offices, she turned off the lights and closed the door behind her, beginning the long walk home. The cold air that washed over her face, waking her up and sending a shiver down her spine, should have been enough to relieve her of her fears. She should have been able to focus on how cold she was, perhaps scolding herself for not bringing a heavier jacket, but instead all that she could think about was that set of footsteps that she thought she heard in the office. She shuddered and sped up, ignoring the fact that it sounded like another person was walking in perfect sync with her. She came to a sudden stop, and heard no footsteps. She began running, and she could swear that she heard them again. Whipping herself around, she looked behind her, but no one was there. She was breathing heavily when she finally arrived at her home.  
She slammed the door behind her, and locked it using all three locks. The feeling was gone. She pushed her hair out of her eyes and went over to the window, which was directly across from her door. She opened it, letting in some fresh air as she calmed down. It really smelled nice outside. It had rained while she was on her mission, and she could smell wet asphalt combined with the general smell of rain, and she let it relax her. Taking in a breath of fresh air, she pushed away from the window and got ready for bed, eagerly falling into the cushiony heaven that she had waited almost two days to revisit. She cuddled into the pillow, pulling the blanket around her and beginning to drift off.  
“You’re supposed to be one of the smartest people in the world, Angela.” whispered a voice, right next to her ear. She shot up in bed, looking in the direction of the voice, to be met with two of the most terrifying eyes that she had ever seen. Amélie. Her eyes had once ben golden, warm, and inviting. They would light up when she laughed and completely give her away whenever she was trying to make a joke. Now, they looked like the well-trained eyes of an experienced predator, snapping to attention at the sign of prey. They were not gold so much as yellow, and absolutely piercing in the worst way.  
“So. How’ve you been?” asked Amélie.  
“A-”  
“Shh, sh-sh-shhh...” Amélie put her finger to Angela’s lips, stopping her. “The name’s Widowmaker.” Angela removed the woman’s finger from her lips, sitting up and gathering herself. Amélie -Widowmaker, Angela corrected herself- had blue skin. The way that she breathed suggested that something was seriously wrong with her respiratory system -or possibly cardio- and her eyes betrayed her voice as usual. She was not friendly. Angela pressed a button next to her bed, but nothing happened.  
“I’m a good little assassin.” said Widowmaker. “I payed attention in assassin school.” She toyed with the last word, clearly joking even though her voice was a monotonous deadpan.   
“What are you here for?” asked Angela, already knowing the answer. “I just said I’m an assassin, take a wild guess.” responded Widowmaker.  
“Ah.” was all that Angela could manage.  
“Yeah.” responded Widowmaker. Angela pressed the small button that had been implanted beneath her skin. It had not seemed necessary, but she was very glad for it. Widowmaker shook her head, picking up a small circular machine and shaking it.  
“The signal’s really bad here for some reason.” she commented. Angela never carried weapons. She was simply not a violent person, and even as Mercy, she only had a side gun for emergencies. The gun was, of course, with the rest of her equipment in her lab. All that she had were her words.  
“You’re a professional assassin.” she said. Widowmaker nodded. “You have probably pulled countless assassinations without your victims even knowing that they were in danger.” This was met with another nod.  
“If that’s the case, why did you speak to me?” asked Angela. There was no response.  
“Je...” Widowmaker trailed off. “That does not matter now.” she cocked her gun and pointed it at Angela, who did not move.  
“You...?” she inquired.  
“Fermez votre bouche!” snapped Widowmaker. Anger. She had felt something? “I killed my husband, I can, no, I will kill you.”  
“Actually I think you’ll have Mercy.” stated Angela.  
“Did you just- I’ll have Mercy’s head, that’s what I’ll have!” declared Widowmaker. Angela pressed her forehead to the gun, closing her eyes.  
“Then, ma chérie, why aren’t you taking the shot.” Angela opened her eyes, meeting Widowmaker’s with a steely confidence. Something changed at that moment, in those golden eyes, something that Angela would never forget. They seemed to almost deepen, and Widowmaker slumped to her knees, setting the gun on the ground. Angela got out of bed and sat in front of her, crossing her legs.  
“Widowmaker-” Angela began.  
“Call me Amélie.” said Amélie, sounding defeated.  
“Amélie...” she trailed off. “Everything’s so different now.” Amélie nodded, looking as broken as a human could look without being actually physically snapped in two. Angela tentatively placed her hand on Amélie’s shoulder. The woman sat there for a moment before slinging her gun and standing up, preparing to leave.  
“Wait!” Angela found herself yelling. Amélie stopped in her tracks. “Please... You pushed me away. Over and over again you pushed me away and...” she was crying, and she hated herself for it, but she couldn’t stop, “things kept getting worse and worse and... And you kept getting worse and worse...” her breath hitched. Amélie had come back and was standing across from her, tentatively reaching forward to wipe away her tears, and Angela placed a hand over that of the other woman, holding it where it was. “Don’t leave again. Every time you leave you say you’re fine but you’re not fine, Amélie. Please don’t leave and just say you’re fine. Just TALK to me.” She begged, almost angry. When she spoke again, her voice was much quieter.   
“Please...” There was a long silence.  
“I’m afraid...” it was so quiet that at first, Angela wasn’t sure if she had actually heard it.  
“Oh, Amélie...” she responded. “Of course you are. I’d be terrified in your shoes.”  
“I’m afraid of the cold. I’m afraid of the dark!” Amélie had picked up momentum. “I’m afraid of how little I feel and how much I feel and most of all I’m afraid of the fact that I killed Gérard without feeling a thing but I can’t kill you! It makes me think that I didn’t kill him because of what they did to me...”   
Angela took her hand and removed it from where it had been resting, on her face.   
“Can I hug you?” she asked. Amélie nodded, using their conjoined hands to pull Angela close before the other woman could even respond. Angela wrapped her arms around the other woman, taking note of how cold she was, and rubbed her back slowly.  
“It’s okay to be afraid.” she said. “What you need to know is that you aren’t alone and I won’t let anything hurt you, ever again. I’m so glad that you told me.” She held her close. “I’m so glad that you’re here...” There was a long, comfortable silence.  
“...I missed this.” muttered Amélie. “Even when I wasn’t supposed to be able to feel anything... beneath it all, I just did.” She paused. “I still can’t physically feel anything, but this comforts me because I can logically comprehend what you’re doing as a comforting act. It’s strange, really.” There was yet another long silence, as they merely enjoyed being near each other. Suddenly, Amélie froze, cursing.  
“What is it?” asked Angela.  
“The entirety of Talon wants you dead.” responded Amélie. “Not only that, but if they find out that I did not kill you, they will need a reason, and they are not going to like it. If I can not complete the job, then they will send someone else, and that person will not hesitate kill you.”   
“Unless you do not go back, in which case they will assume that I killed you...” Angela thought aloud.  
“They would still be able to send someone else.” said Amélie.  
“That’s true, but it keeps you out of hot water.” responded Angela. “And I could tell everyone that I caught and killed you while you entered my home, but tell my more trusted Overwatch coworkers the real story. That would result in people protecting me with Talon none the wiser, all while you remain safe and one-hundred percent off the grid.”   
“That sounds like a plan.” said Amélie. “But where do I hide?”  
“You can stay with me until we figure out something better. I do have multiple guest rooms for when my coworkers and I spend multiple days working here. I have a lab, and yet it happens more often than you’d think because for working on just plain equations and paperwork, it’s a lot more comfortable to be at home, and...” she had started ranting again. She hadn’t slept in two days, and it was taking a toll on her.  
“That can work.” responded Amélie. She looked out the window.  
“It can work, but you don’t want that.” said Angela. Amélie nodded.   
“I’ve gotten so used to fighting, Angela... I need it.” she explained.  
“You’re happier at Talon.” Angela was smiling, but the crack in her voice gave her away.  
“Yes.” said Amélie.   
“Then for now, just say I went into a heavily guarded building with cameras everywhere, and you’ll try again next week.” said Angela. She pulled away, looking Amélie in the eye.  
“I do not support your lifestyle, Amélie.” she said. “But I support you. It is difficult for me, as you can hear by my voice, but... We at Overwatch kill for allegedly good reasons. We say we’re killing the bad guys. You at Talon probably do the same thing, so... go fight the bad guys.” Amélie nodded hastily, turning away from Angela so that the woman couldn’t see her face.   
“Thank you. Thank you so much, Angela. I’ll be seeing you.” she said, jumping out the window and almost immediately vanishing into the night. Angela grabbed her window, about to close it, before she shook her head. Maybe she would come back. She jumped back into bed and cried herself to sleep. She cared so deeply for Amélie, but the woman was a cold-blooded murderer, and she was proud to be such a thing. Still, regardless of how much she had changed, she was still her Amélie.  
  If only she hadn’t been an agent at Overwatch. She would never have known any of this, she would never have been targeted, and she would never be burdened with the knowledge that a woman for whom she had pined for a very long time was an assassin. People say that knowledge is power, but in this case, knowledge was killing her slowly and oh so painfully.  
“I’m in love with a serial killer.” Angela sobbed. “What’s wrong with me?”

Amélie -no, Widowmaker,- returned to Talon long after her eyes had dried. It was unfair. She desperately wanted to lead a happy domestic life with Angela. She even wanted to settle down as wives and possibly even adopt kids. Angela was nice, warm, and safe, but Gérard had felt that way as well. How the hell could Amélie trust herself in the same apartment as the woman that she had once loved? She was a monster, and she knew it full well. She could never trust herself not to hurt Angela. There was no reason whatsoever that she could believe that she would never have the urge to kill her. Of course she wasn’t happier at Talon, but where else could she go to make sure that no one ever hurt Angela again?  
“Je me déteste.” she muttered disgustedly.

 

 

-

Je = I

Fermez votre bouche = “shut your mouth” = shut up

Ma Chérie = my dear. Tbh I’d prefer “Mon petit chou” which is “My little cabbage” but is also a French pet name, but it was ill-suiting to the setting.

Je me déteste = I hate myself

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I wasn't originally planning on making this a multi-chapter fic, but I don't think I can just leave it like this.


End file.
